


Loosened Ties Around These Questions (That Can Breathe Real In The Dark)

by hallowgirl



Category: Political RPF - UK 20th-21st c.
Genre: Affectionate Insults, Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Arguing, Banter, Belligerent Sexual Tension, Boarding School, Drinking Games, Everyone Probably Saw It, First Kiss, George Is Infuriating, George Kinda Ships It, Hate to Love, M/M, Making Out, Nick Is A Good Guy, Opposites Attract, SO MUCH BANTER, So Much Arguing, from enemies to friends to lovers, mentions of bullying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-26
Updated: 2015-08-26
Packaged: 2018-04-17 07:00:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4657044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hallowgirl/pseuds/hallowgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He can feel Miliband's gaze, heavy as a touch, and eventually, he lifts his eyes to the other boy's, and manages, his voice thinner and more defensive than he would have liked, "Anyway, I thought <em>you</em> hated <em>me."</em><br/>Miliband blinks. "Only because <em>you</em> hate me." One of the perils of boarding school are the nightly restrictions. Another is getting stuck outside for the night with the one person you're most likely to end up murdering by morning.<br/>In which David and Ed spend the night in a shed, argue, find a few things they agree on, argue, play drinking games, argue, and discover they might not hate one another after all. And argue. Camerband, Boarding School AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Loosened Ties Around These Questions (That Can Breathe Real In The Dark)

**Author's Note:**

> OK. I'm a sucker for boarding school AUS. And with half the politicans attending them, I'm surprised these AUs aren't more popular.  
> Anyway, wrote this while thinking about how hilarious Camerband's arguing at a boarding school would have been. Also, although it doesn't say their age here, they're both over sixteen, which means neither are underage (in the UK, where this is set.) Just in case.  
> Also-obviously, total, complete, utter fiction.

One of the worst things about boarding school is the nightly restrictions.  
David rattles the gates fruitlessly, as if the iron might bend if he just shakes it hard enough. "Damn it." He kicks the gates. "Damn it." Another rattle. "Fucking _damn it."_  
A hand fastens on his sleeve. "I know you have trouble with the obvious, _Cameron"_ comes the voice and David can almost hear the sneer without looking. "But you do know if you keep rattling the gate, you're just going to _invite_ people to come looking."  
He's right. He's right and David hates him for it. He gives the gate one final kick and then stalks out of sight, heading for the route he and George always use when they've been shut out (which has happened once or twice before.) Only that won't help with getting inside the building.  
"Where are you going?" The other boy scurries after him like a frightened mouse. "You can't just leave me out _here."_  
David would quite happily do that right now, but the other boy's not giving him the option. David takes him in reluctantly as the boy reaches his side, the dark hair and glasses that keep slipping down his nose, the olive skin that had had some of the more neanderthal members of the class muttering snide comments under their breath that had made even David roll his eyes and had prompted Nick to enquire that there were far more annoying things than the colour of the boy's skin and hadn't they anything better to do with their time?  
That had resulted in three detentions for the ensuing fight but it had been one of those times that David had been reminded that Nick was a far better friend than himself.  
But then again, he imagines that even Nick would find it difficult to be friendly if he'd found himself locked out of the school, unable to get back in, with the prospect of spending a night locked outside in the grounds, with _Miliband_ of all people.  
Miliband pushes his glasses up his nose as David reaches the tree whose branches grow conveniently over the side of the wall. He stares at David rather balefully, like a wounded panda. "This is your fault."  
David gives up on his vow of silence and almost explodes as he turns to the other boy. _"My_ fault?"  
Miliband pushes his glasses up again and takes on that aggrieved, righteous expression that he always gets when he's about to make some point or put forward some argument or say something that's going to get right up David's nose. "If you hadn't insisted on harassing me-"  
David splutters. "Harassing you? _Harassing you?_ I made _one comment_ about your _book-"_  
"Yes, you said it was rubbish." Miliband sniffs. "Which I'd advise you is an uninformed opinion. If you actually _read_ it-"  
"How is _this-"_ David gestures to the tree, as if it's the root of all of their problems. "My fault?"  
"I'd have been back sooner!" Miliband's fists are clenched now and his cheeks are turning redder as he chews at his lip. "And now we're _both_ locked-"  
"No, we're not." David had been toying with the idea of leaving Miliband out here for the night, but then that would rob him of the pleasure of showing the other boy he was wrong. And even he wasn't _that_ cruel. "There's a way in."  
Miliband blinks, looking as if he's torn between not accepting any help from David and the fear of being locked out all night. "How?"  
David sighs. "Up there." He points up to the tree. "Goes right over the wall onto the shed."  
"And then what?"  
David swallows. "That's it." Usually, if it was David's crowd who'd made their way out, someone would have been waiting to let them back in, but this time, of course, nobody had known he was coming.  
"We'll still be locked out, Cameron."  
"Of course we will, Miliband. But we'll be in the grounds. There's a-shed."  
"A shed? Are you suggesting we spend the night in a _shed?"_  
"Well, you're always talking about spending time with the lower classes. Maybe it will be a good experience for you."  
Miliband opens and closes his mouth frantically and David feels that sharp jab of pleasure he always seems to get from riling Miliband up-in class or corridors or dining hall, something about leaving Miliband floundering for words makes something sharp and triumphant spark in David's chest, along with a twinge of thought, something like _come on, then, fight back, say something, you idiot-_  
"Anyway-" David turns and yanks his leg up on the branch. Usually, he's got George or Nick's shoulder to balance on but he'll manage.  
"Wait!" Something about the crack in the voice makes David roll his eyes and turn around. "What now, Miliband?"  
Miliband's blinking anxiously at him, his book tucked under his arm. David stares at him, taking him in from the glasses to the book to the exact-to-the-inch regulation-length sleeves and feels a rush of exasperation and something else, something he doesn't look too closely at.  
Miliband's lip is sticking out. "How am I going to get up?" he asks and David bites back his grin at the sight of Miliband looking like a sulky child.  
He scrambles down from the tree. "Have you never climbed a tree before?"  
The scowl on Miliband's face is answer enough. David snorts, stepping behind him. "Miliband, I know your family's weird-"  
Miliband stiffens immediately, and the glare he levels at David is impressive. "Don't bring my family into it, _Cameron."_  
David debates whether to push the point, but decides against it. The longer they linger out here, the longer they risk their voices being heard-at least, inside the shed, they'll have some privacy.  
It's then that David realises he's already resigned himself to spending the night in the shed with Miliband and he wonders if it might not have been easier to go to a day school instead, even if it was one of those places that didn't cost anything.  
"Look-" He steps forward, clamps his hands together, holds them out. "Step on this."  
Miliband sniffs and folds his arms. David could hit him.  
"Look" he says, struggling to keep his voice level. "I don't give a damn if you come in or not. If you want to sleep out here and get mugged by some lunatic, then that's your lookout. Though I doubt anyone would want _that"_ he can't help adding, indicating the book and Miliband clutches it protectively, as though David has hurt it's feelings.  
His eyes flicker from David's hands to the tree, and apparently deciding accepting help from David is the lesser of two evils here, he sighs, wedges his book under his arm and then steps on David's hand, reaching up and letting his flailing hands grab the branch.  
"There-now just push yourself up-go on-" Miliband's almost crouched on David's shoulders now and David's breathless, partly from the weight of the other boy (he might look skinny but then that's not when David's holding him on his shoulders) and also from the fact that this is the closest he's ever been to Miliband and having his head between the other boy's legs was _not_ what he expected from the night.  
Miliband's arms flail comically and David hears him muttering something before he manages to grab onto a branch and his book immediately drops from his grasp. It's fall is broken by David's own head.  
"For God's sake, Miliband!"  
Miliband lets out a squawk as David almost drops his legs, and clings to the tree like a rather inept monkey. David picks up the book and resists the urge to throw it at Miliband's head. "You could have _killed_ me."  
Miliband scrambles up the trunk, arms and legs everywhere like a frantic daddy-long-legs. "You mean, _you_ could have killed _me"_ he bleats, as he pulls himself up onto a branch where he lies, wrapped around it like an extremely anxious sloth. "You almost dropped me!"  
"Because your book almost _decapitated_ me!"  
Miliband glowers down at him. "It didn't mean to."  
David's about to ask Miliband if he seriously imagines that books are sentient beings, when Miliband pushes his glasses back up his nose and then lets out a small cry as he almost loses his balance. David rolls his eyes, as Miliband stares at the ground anxiously.  
"What do I do now?" he asks, that crack of panic back through his voice, and David sighs, steps underneath the branch.  
"Just pull yourself along" he says, careful to keep his voice low so Miliband doesn't start panicking even more. "The shed's right up against the wall. If you swing yourself off, you'll drop right onto the roof."  
Miliband blinks. "I'm not sure if I can do that."  
David mutters an oath under his breath. He struggles to keep his voice as level as possible. "Of course you can, Miliband. Just drag yourself along the branch."  
He glances up and sees Miliband biting his lip, casting a glance at the ground and David sighs. He steps under the branch, holding out his arms. "Look, I'm here. I'll-I'll catch you if you slip. I-I promise."  
Miliband blinks at him and David holds out his hands. "Promise." At the furrow of Miliband's brow, David sighs. "You know I'd be the one punished if you broke your neck, Miliband? I'll catch you if you fall. Now, would you get on with moving before one of us drops dead."  
Miliband swallows and after a second, slowly inches along the branch. He's got his eyes fixed straight ahead now, his teeth digging into his lip and David watches his-rather snail-like-progress.  
"That's it" he calls up, in what he hopes is an encouraging tone of voice. "You're doing it-just keep going-you're almost there, at the end-almost, just a few more inches-"  
From his vantage point on the ground, it looks as if Miliband's teeth are gritted. But he keeps moving, jaw clenched, even stopping at one point to push his glasses further back up his nose, before he reaches the end of the branch.  
"That's it," David calls, trying his best to sound positive. "Now, you-all you need to do is look down-"  
Miliband squints down, then seems to relax his grip a little at the sight of the roof beneath him.  
"Now, just drop down onto that. Not that high, is it?"  
"But we won't be able to get in." Miliband's voice is worryingly high-pitched again. "We'll be locked out."  
David sighs. "I'll explain when I get over there. Just get onto the shed roof first, OK?" He sighs and adds "I'll throw your book over after you."  
Miliband swallows, and David watches as he takes a few deep breaths, evidently psyching himself up for the leap. Then, with what looks like his eyes shut, he takes one final gasp of air, and then awkwardly swings himself over the branch.  
David shuts his eyes as Miliband falls with his arms out and hears the thud and the "Ow!" that tells him Miliband has made a safe, if rather inept, landing. He waits a moment and then shouts, in a harsh whisper "Are you all right?"  
There's a moment's silence and then Miliband's voice, rather forlornly, "Yes." He hears the distinct sounds of Miliband sitting up, and then his voice suddenly tight and anxious. "You said my book-"  
"Here-" David whips his arm back and throws, watches as the book arcs neatly over the wall and hears the thump as it lands-accompanied by another "Ow!"  
"What happened?"  
Miliband's tone is distinctly aggrieved. "It hit me on the head!"  
"Karma."  
"What?"  
David shakes his head. "Doesn't matter." He begins pulling himself up, using all his strength to scale the branches as rapidly as possible. "I'll be there in a moment."  
David's scrambled this route enough times that he can afford to let his mind drift from wedging his foot into the correct place to how bloody _annoying_ Miliband is.  
He can remember the first time he saw Miliband-really _saw_ him, for the annoying, pedantic, bloody little-David shakes his head, remembering the moment he'd given an answer in class and had got it right, he'd got it bloody _right_ , and almost immediately Miliband's hand was waving in the air as he pointed out that _actually, there is a more comprehensive answer available (comprehensive answer available_ , little git) and then he'd turned around and given David that look, that wide-eyed, almost _pitying_ look that even now, makes David forget everything they were told about being gentlemanly and polite and just want to punch Miliband right in the nose.  
But ever since then-that moment when he forgot the first moment he'd laid eyes on Miliband the night before in the dormitory, the quiet boy with the dark hair and the glasses who didn't speak and who David had found himself staring at more than once, questions jostling for position as he watched- Miliband has been basically his least favourite person.  
To be fair, he supposes Miliband isn't particularly fond of _him_ either. It's not as though he doesn't go out of his way to laugh every time Miliband's legs go out from under him in football or every time he walks into a wall with his nose in a book. Then again, Miliband doesn't lose an opportunity to needle him about money and privilege-they go to the same school, so he thinks this is a bit rich, no pun intended-so David reckons it's evens.  
But tonight really hadn't been _David's_ fault.  
He wriggles his way over the shed roof and drops down, to find Miliband sitting curled on the edge of the roof, his arms curled protectively around his book again. Miliband sniffs and glances at him. "What do we do now?"  
David drops down to the ground and yanks open the shed door, grinning as he hears his blazer rattle, the bottles inside clinking against one another. "Here-" He pushes the door cautiously-last time he just walked in, he found George in there with one of his recent conquests and that is an image David does _not_ need in his head again.  
Luckily, it's empty and he glances up. "Here's your bed for the night."  
Miliband's eyes flicker from David to the shed door and back again. They widen behind the glasses. "In _there?"_  
David nods. "Yes, Miliband. I'm taking you to Narnia."  
Miliband scowls as he slides down off the roof. "You do know, Cameron, I don't need your help?"  
"Perfect." David claps his hands together. "You know an easy way in? Show me, by all means."  
Miliband glowers at him and David sighs. "Look, I'm going in here. You want to sleep in the grounds, that's your lookout."  
He's barely one step in when Miliband's hovering behind him, muttering about _dust_ and _dirty_ and David rolls his eyes.  
"Sorry it doesn't live up to your high standards, Miliband."  
Miliband's snort of contempt makes David grit his teeth. "That's rich coming from you."  
David turns to face him. "You do know we attend the same school? "  
"So?"  
_"So_ , it's a bit rich to act as if you're better than everyone else, when your parents are shelling out the fees, the same as-"  
"Actually, Cameron, _I_ attempted the scholarship route."  
David raises an eyebrow. "And you didn't get in?"  
Miliband scowls. "Yes, but it was on _principle._ To prove that _background_ does not constitute-"  
"Oh, blah, blah, blah" David interrupts, rather lamely but if he sees Miliband put on that earnest, righteous expression one more time, he'll come close to screaming.  
"See." Miliband folds his arms, and David grits his teeth again. "That is _precisely_ your-"  
David grabs his sleeve, tugs him away from the door and slams it shut. Miliband jumps at the sudden darkness and makes small, frantic sounds in the back of his throat as David fumbles in his pocket. "Cameron, what the _hell_ do you think you're-"  
"Oh, just shut up." David locates his lighter, lifts it triumphantly and lets the flame flicker into life. His eyes are starting to adjust to the darkness now and he heads for the lantern he and George always use. He lights it carefully, Miliband still spluttering away next to him, and drags out the small cushion Nick shoved in here once they discovered no one ever used it. He plonks himself down on it and glances up at Miliband, who's staring at him, his mouth opening and closing wordlessly.  
David sighs. "There's another one." He chucks it at Miliband, who grabs it and awkwardly gathers his legs underneath him as he sits down. He frowns at the book, pushing his glasses further up his nose.  
"How did you know about this?"  
David snorts. "We've spent plenty of nights here when we come back late. Teachers almost never check it."  
Miliband blinks. _"Almost_ never?"  
David nods. "Well. Practically."  
"We could still get caught." Miliband slides his glasses off his nose now, and begins polishing them frantically on his blazer sleeve. His lips are pursed and he's blinking rather rapidly. "We could still get caught out, tonight could be the night they check-"  
"Oh, for God's sake." David tilts his head back against the wall, dragging a cigarette packet out of his pocket. "By the laws of probability, _Miliband-"_ Miliband flushes and David knows they're both remembering the ill-fated maths lesson in which he and Miliband had both been ordered out after a twenty-minute debate over the correct way of converting fractions to decimals, which had started out with barbs vaguely associated with numbers and had ended with remarks traded at a rather high volume referring to glasses and foreheads (David still scowls at himself in the mirror sometimes, because it doesn't matter what Miliband says, it does _not_ look as though his forehead is trying to fit two heads at once, it _doesn't.)_ "It's pretty damn unlikely it's going to be tonight."  
"Cameron, unless you're telepathic, you don't know that."  
"Well, what's the worst that could happen?" David takes a drag off the cigarette, ignoring Miliband's scandalised look. "They'll give us a detention, so what?"  
"I'd have thought, as a prefect, you'd be a little more concerned than that, Cameron-"  
"Aren't you a prefect, as well, Miliband?"  
"Yes" Miliband snaps, fingering his prefect badge anxiously. "And I expect now I'll lose my badge."  
David almost chokes on the cigarette smoke. "You're not going to lose your badge. Do you have any idea how many times George and I-" He shakes his head. "For God's sake, the most you'll get is a detention. I'll take the blame if you want, say I corrupted you-"  
"It's not _funny_ , Cameron." Miliband's squeezing the badge now, eyes darting, teeth digging into his lip. David guesses he'd be pacing if the shed wasn't so small. "I've never had a-"  
He stops dead but David's already lowering the cigarette to stare at him. "You're joking."  
Miliband sniffs. "Not all of us take delight in constantly bending the rules for our own purposes-"  
"Oh, for the love of _God_ , do you have any idea how fucking _pompous_ you sound?"  
Miliband glares at him. "Do you have any idea how fucking privileged _you_ sound?"  
The words hang in the air, with Miliband stumbling over the "fucking" and David bites back a grin, suddenly certain he's never said the word before. The flush rising up Miliband's cheeks seems to confirm his assumption.  
David chews his lip and Miliband folds his arms, glowering at the floor. "You shouldn't be smoking in here, anyway" he announces suddenly, apparently seizing on another thing to complain about. "It could cause a fire."  
David sighs. "All right, then we'll extinguish the lamps and we'll sit in silence for the night. Will that be fucking satisfactory?"  
Miliband gives him a silent look of contempt, and folds his arms around his knees again. David glances at him, and Miliband's eyes flicker back, so that their gazes lock for a moment. David stares and so does Miliband, each of them waiting for the other to glance away. David takes another drag of his cigarette and tries to ignore the way his heart is suddenly beating harder against his ribs.  
"Here." He holds out the cigarette packet and Miliband stares as though it's a knife. "What?"  
"You're the one always going on about _"trying to understand your opponents."_ He imitates Miliband's nasal tone and Miliband flushes. "You can't knock it if you haven't tried it."  
Miliband glares at him. "Maybe I just don't wish to engage in something that could get me killed."  
_"Killed?"_ David snorts. "One drag won't kill you. At all." He hands it over, most of him expecting Miliband to completely ignore him. But to his surprise, Miliband reaches out, takes the cigarette and gestures for the lighter.  
David might not know Miliband inside out but he's prepared to take a fairly big gamble that he's never smoked before, so he leans across to light it for him. Miliband swallows and David watches the movement of his throat as David lifts the lighter, the cigarette flickering into light, and he guides Miliband's fingers away from the flame, guiding his hand to his mouth.  
"It's not going to bite you." His finger brushes Miliband's mouth as he lowers his hand and he might be imagining it but he thinks he sees Miliband shiver.  
Miliband swallows and David tries to ignore how fast his heart is beating while Miliband takes a slow, careful drag off the cigarette.  
David can't stop himself breaking out into laughter as Miliband doubles over, coughing, and humour winning out over rivalry, he bangs Miliband on the back gently. Miliband slides his glasses off and scrubs at his eyes, gasping for breath.  
"That's poith- _poison_ , Cameron" he says, and his cheeks are flushed as he stands up, pulling away from David's hands. David can't work out if his increased colour is from the coughing, the lisp, or both. David's grown used to that lisp over the years-if he was honest with himself, something about hearing it always makes David's hair stand up, and he tells himself it's just because of how annoying Miliband is.  
Miliband's still coughing as David takes the cigarette back, sticking it in his mouth along with his own. He glances up to see Miliband shaking his head, lips pursed as he slides his glasses back on, straightening his blazer with a sniff.  
"Oh, come on, Miliband." David takes a drag off both cigarettes at once. "I'm hardly shoving it down your throat-"  
"It's still poisoning yourself." Miliband sniffs, and David feels the smile slide off his face as all of his previous irritation with Miliband surges back.  
"Oh, lighten up, Miliband. It's one cigarette, it's not going to kill you-" He's never been more fed up-what was he thinking, trying to bond with _Miliband_ of all people, just because they're stuck in this shed together, it's _always_ like this between them, _always-_  
"It's not _me_ I'm worried about!" The words seem wrenched from Miliband's chest and he's staring at David, his brow furrowed, his mouth working wordlessly, a growing look of horror on his face as he realises what he's just said.  
David coughs, splutters, and eventually drags both of the cigarettes from his mouth and stubs them out on the shelf. Miliband is staring at the floor, his arms tightly folded, his gaze not straying anywhere near David's.  
David swallows. "You-you were worried about-about me?"  
Miliband scuffs the toe of his shoe across the floor and raises his shoulder in a half-shrug. The silence between them grows thicker, heavier, and suddenly desperate to say something, do something, David stands up and awkwardly drags his cushion nearer to Miliband's.  
"You-were worried about me?" he says softly, and Miliband's lip curls. "Cameron, I know you must have trouble understanding things but if I spell it out-"  
David's hand covers Miliband's mouth before he realises what he's doing and the other boy's eyes widen. He doesn't make any effort to wriggle away, though, and David swallows hard. He knows exactly what the other boys would say if they saw him doing this kind of thing- _this_ , with _Miliband_ -and he-he-  
But Miliband's staring at him, those too-dark eyes wide behind the glasses and David's heart's beating too fast. He's never been this close to Miliband before, and now suddenly he's noticing things about him-the exact smooth shade of his skin, and how wide his eyes are , and how he could almost count each one of his eyelashes-  
He yanks his hand back before his mind can go too far. It's OK to notice things about other boys, he tells himself-he knows what's going on, he'd have to be a fool _not_ to, when boys lie awake in their dormitories at night, their minds filled with restless dreams-but not this close. Not when it's just them alone.  
Not when it's him and _Miliband._  
He leans back against the shelf, drags out a bottle of beer from his blazer. (He and George would have found some way of hiding beer, but it was Boris who came up with the ingenious move of sewing extra pockets into the inside of their blazers. David smirks at the memory-it would be _Boris_ , of course.)  
He swears he sees Miliband roll his eyes at the sight of the beer but the other boy somehow refrains from passing comment. He guesses that was difficult, for Miliband.  
He's almost expecting Miliband never to answer as he takes a swig of the beer when Miliband says "It doesn't mean I want anything to happen to you."  
David lowers the bottle slowly. "What on earth are you talking about, now?"  
Miliband is glaring at the floor, as if it's the cause of all the awkwardness between them. He shifts, fidgeting with the sleeve of his blazer. "Just because we-" He gestures awkwardly between them. "It doesn't mean I want anything to happen to you."  
David swallows. "Well, I-I know. I mean-" He coughs. "Gosh. I don't want anything to happen to you, either."  
Miliband's lip twitches. _"Gosh_ , Cameron?"  
"I thought you valued manners?"  
Miliband smirks. "Says the boy smoking and drinking."  
Cameron holds out the bottle. "Sorry, did you want some?"  
Miliband shakes his head. "Unbelievable, Cameron." But he takes the bottle and swallows some, grimacing at the taste. "God. What is in that?"  
"It's beer, Miliband. Have you never had any?"  
Miliband scowls again and Cameron snorts. "Do you do anything but pick up books, Miliband?"  
"It's called being _educated_ , Cameron."  
David sighs and takes another swig of the beer before passing it back to Miliband. He takes another look at the boy next to him, at the glasses and the thick dark hair, a strand of which is hanging in Miliband's eyes. His hand suddenly itches to reach out and push it back, just gently, tuck it behind Miliband's ears. But he keeps it still at his side, as he sits with his breath caught in his chest, his eyes on Miliband's face.  
*  
Ed has never tasted beer before (in fact, he's never tasted any alcohol, apart from the illicit swigs of wine David had smuggled for him last Christmas that had tasted like drinking _vinegar_ , for God's sake) and he's never stayed out past curfew before (apart from when he's needed the library to study, and that hardly counts) and he's certainly never done any of those things with _Cameron_ , of all people.  
And now he's crouched in a shed with the other boy where they're apparently spending the night, and Ed sneaks a glance at Cameron when the other boy's eyes are focused on his cigarette, and wonders how on earth he has let this happen.  
He can't work out precisely what it is that annoys him so much about Cameron. He remembers the first time he saw the other boy, when he'd been crouched on his bed in his new dormitory, nervously sliding his glasses on and off his nose, trying to remember everything David had told him about _just relax, it'll be fine_ , and then his attention had been distracted by a boy with a school hat nestling on top of floppy brown hair, and an easy grin, strolling into the room accompanied by a smaller boy with dark black hair and a taller one, who was regarding the other two with an amused smile.  
"Anyway" the boy with the floppy hair had been saying. "Allan got heaps of awards here and Dad kept going on and _on_ about it. I mean, he keeps telling me just to try my best, but if he thinks I'm going to spend every minute in the library like Allan did-"  
The other boy had thrown himself onto a bed, head propped on his hand and then waved at someone in the hallway. "Boris, we're in here, you idiot."  
A tall, blond-haired boy had popped his head in the doorway, breaking into a grin. "Nice kit, Dave."  
Dave-the boy with the floppy hair-had removed his hat slowly, with a smirk. "Dad insisted on me wearing it the whole way in. Used to do the same with Allan. You're lucky-" This to the dark-haired boy. "At least your parents don't insist on you wearing your school name _the whole ride down_ in the car."  
Ed felt his lips purse for a moment and quickly lowered his eyes. Something about the cocky confidence of the boy, the arrogant way he was draping himself over his bed, the way he simply dismissed his school name, as if it was something _anyone_ could pick up-Ed and David's parents had insisted on them going the scholarship route, even though they had more than enough money to pay, simply as a matter of principle. "Education should be available to everyone" his father had said severely, when Ed had made a feeble protest as to all the extra work. "I want you to appreciate what the others have to go through and just how lucky you boys are."  
Ed had known it wouldn't do any good-David had had to do it and so his parents were hardly likely to change the system for him. So, he had knuckled down-and when he won his place on scholarship, just as David had done, his mother had hugged him close and whispered into his hair, that of course, they would never have refused to pay, if the exams had been too hard, but that they'd always known he could do it, and it was a good experience for him, wasn't it? And Ed had agreed without really thinking about it.  
Now, sitting in the dormitory, gazing at the other boys, he would have made a firm bet that none of their parents had even _thought_ of making them go the scholarship route. The dark-haired boy had already been smirking.  
"No" he' d said. "Dad told me just to be careful with the money I was keeping in the hat. He said he'd send more next week."  
Ed had rolled his eyes. No doubt these were the types of boys his father warned him about-"They're spoilt" Ralph had said to him, warningly. "Never had to work for money, never understood what it's like to suffer. They can't help it, but it's a dangerous thing"-and Ed is now sharing a dormitory with them. He wonders how on earth David survived all this.  
"Poor little rich boy" Dave had said mockingly and Ed had started at this-surely one of them couldn't agree with him? But Dave had been knocking the dark-haired boy on the back of the head, saying "Honestly, George, you sound a right toff. Tell him, would you, Boris?"  
Boris had already been taking a seat on his own bed. "Who's this one you've picked up?" He indicated the tall, dark-haired boy, who had been sitting quietly, taking in the proceedings with a look of amusement on his face.  
"Oh." Dave had kicked the other boy gently. "This is Nick. We found him outside."  
"Are you allowed to keep him?"  
George had snorted. "Feed him three times a day and keep him under the bed."  
Dave had laughed, slung an arm around George and Nick's shoulders each. "Look. He fits. One of us."  
Nick had laughed too, then, as Dave misjudged his balance and nearly slid off the mattress. "It looks as if we all don't fit right now" he'd said casually, hauling Dave back up by a sleeve. Ed had watched, a sudden sharp, angry feeling rising under his skin, a feeling that made him bite his lip, at knowing, just _knowing_ , none of them would have joked with him like that.  
He'd turned back to his pillow and begun laying his books out, and a second later, had become aware of one of the other boy's eyes on him. He'd glanced up to see the floppy-haired boy-Dave-staring at him. Ed waited for him to speak but the other boy didn't. Instead, he'd just stared, while the other boys chattered and after a few moments, Ed had let his eyes dart back to his suitcase and carried on, determinedly, with his unpacking.  
It had been the next day, watching Dave casually raise his hand in class, already surrounded by the three from the dormitory, and having apparently picked up a few more along the way, that Ed had felt that sharp, angry feeling again and when Dave had given one answer, that was _obviously_ incomplete, his own hand had been up and the words had been out of his mouth before he could grab them back.  
When he'd heard the sniggers, originally, he'd felt his heart sink, thinking they were for him, _shut up, Miliband, why don't you and your brother bugger off where you came from?_ But then he'd seen the flush of Dave's cheeks, the way the other boy darted a scowl back at him through his hair, and he'd suddenly known that while some of those sniggers were undeniably for him, a fair few were for Dave as well.  
Dave had rammed his elbow into Ed's ribs in the corridor and Ed had started, arms wrapped around his chest. "Excuse me?" he'd said cautiously, knowing he hadn't been in the wrong, but still somewhat shocked that anyone could just-  
"Well, excuse you" Dave had thrown back over his shoulder, with George smirking at his side. "Maybe the way forward wasn't _comprehensively available."_  
Ed had felt his cheeks flush at the sniggers which had broken out as Dave's crowd walked away. He stood still, his cheeks hot, as he glared at the other boys' backs and suddenly, right then, Dave had stopped being Dave and become almost entirely known-to Ed, at least-by the surname he'd heard read out from the register that morning- _Cameron._  
And now Ed is sitting in a shed, sharing cigarettes and beer with him.  
He sneaks another glance at Cameron, who's taking another drag off a cigarette. Ed thoughtfully passes the bottle back, and Cameron takes it without looking at him. He lifts up the book and stares at it sadly. He can barely see the words in the dull light of the lantern. He's lucky his glasses haven't broken.  
Cameron sighs. "Miliband, we are locked out for the night. You could do something a little more interesting than reading. Which you always do."  
Ed feels the blood rush to his cheeks. "Excuse me for wanting to be educated" he snaps, and regrets the tone immediately. But something about that is so _Cameron_ -just taking all of it for granted, the fact that he gets to be here, the fact that he gets to be educated, the fact that he gets all of this, as though anyone in the world could have it if they just tried hard enough.  
Cameron rolls his eyes. "Christ, Miliband. You sound even more of a pain than usual-"  
"This from the boy who almost broke my ribs because I corrected him-"  
Cameron blinks at him. "That was _years_ ago" he says and Ed's shocked to find Cameron even remembers the incident. "Anyway, _you'd-you'd_ just made me look like a-"  
Ed shakes his head and turns back to his book. "It's your fault we're stuck out here anyway" he mutters, even though he doubts Cameron is even paying attention. "If you hadn't started _harassing me-"_  
Cameron snorts. "Harassing? _Again?"_  
Ed shakes his head. "Why can't you just leave me alone?" he mutters, knowing he sounds like a sulky child and hating it. "I never do anything to you."  
Cameron almost drops the bottle as he turns to stare at Ed, eyes wide. "First- _we_ never do anything to _you_ , Miliband. You're the one always standing there, telling us how inferior we are because _you_ got in on _scholarship-"_  
"It was to _prove a point-"_  
"And second, you're the one who's a complete fucking hypocrite!"  
The clipped, polished sound of Cameron's words only serve to raise Ed's hackles even more. He lowers his book and takes a deep breath, the way his father always tells him to when he's in the middle of a debate. "How am I a hypocrite?" he asks, somehow keeping his voice steady while his heart pounds and his brain seethes with the image of throwing his book at Cameron's head.  
Cameron snorts, and takes another gulp of beer. "Please, Miliband. _I got in on scholarship, none of you appreciate what you have, it's not as if my family drips with money-"_  
Ed feels his cheeks getting hotter. "They don't-"  
_"They could afford it, but they chose to make me work, all of you are spoilt, all of you are the same-"_ Cameron continues in a nasal, muffled voice that is nothing like Ed's at _all._  
Ed glares at him. "I never said that" he says, his voice a little less steady now. "About you being all the same. I never said that."  
Cameron shrugs. "You might as well" he says in his normal voice. "It's what you think every time you look at us. That you're so much better-"  
"It's _you_ who thinks you're better!" The words burst out of Ed's mouth. _"You're_ the ones always sitting there, thinking you're so-so much-you're the one who got us into this, because you can't just leave me alone-you had to come up and start-start _mocking_ me, the way you always-"  
"I was asking about your _book!"_  
_"You asked me about my Commie literature, Cameron!"_  
"Because you were _ignoring_ me!"  
"Because I knew _you_ were going to make fun of-"  
_"No, I wasn't!"_  
Cameron's mouth opens and closes fruitlessly, but it's too late now, Ed's heard it. He swallows and stares at Cameron, who's pressed his lips closed and is determinedly avoiding Ed's eyes, keeping his gaze on the floor. Ed's mind prickles into a warning, whispering that Cameron's probably lying-but then why would he-  
"What were you going to do, then?" he asks, and it isn't until he hears the words that he realises he's spoken them out loud.  
Cameron's not looking anywhere near him, and he's fumbling with the cigarettes, though he doesn't seem to have any intention of taking one out. "I was-" He swallows. "I was just-wondering. What you were reading." He shoots Ed a look. "That a satisfactory answer, Miliband?"  
But Ed keeps his gaze fixed on Cameron. "You've never wondered before."  
Cameron swallows. "Yes, I have" he says, his voice so low Ed almost doesn't hear it. When the words sink in, he freezes and edges a few inches away from Cameron, almost suspecting a trap.  
Cameron lifts his head and stares at him, floppy brown hair almost falling in his eyes. Ed swallows, his heart beating a little faster at the sight of that wide, blue-eyed gaze fixed so intently on his own now. "I-" Cameron drops his gaze again and tugs at his collar rather uncomfortably. "Well-I. Gosh. I just-" His cheeks are reddening now and Ed stares at him, feeling his own face grow warmer by the second.  
"You're just always reading, you know? And it-you know, I just wondered. What you were reading." Cameron's shredding the cigarette packet now, absent-mindedly pulling it between his fingers.  
Ed swallows. "Why didn't you just ask?" he says, fingers clenching and unclenching on the cover of his book.  
Cameron raises his shoulders in a quick shrug. "I suppose I thought you wouldn't talk to me" he says softly. "I mean, I stood there for a bit but you didn't-"  
"Because I thought you were going to say something." The words fall out in a rush and Cameron's eyes settle on Ed's face. Ed can feel himself blushing and hates himself for it, so he drops his eyes to the floor, tugging at the end of his sleeve. But he can feel Cameron watching him, and after a few moments, the scrutiny becomes too intense.  
"I mean, you usually do" he points out, slightly unnerved by the way Cameron is just sitting there, staring at him. (What's he meant to do, stare back?) "Th-so how am I thu-po-supo-th-" He trails off, biting his lip as the lisp re-emerges in full force-that's all he needs right now, his lisp tripping him up, giving Cameron something else to sneer at-  
"I know" and Ed's head jerks up, he's so surprised. Cameron's watching him, and somehow they've ended up moving closer together so that his leg's almost touching Cameron's. Cameron swallows and tugs at the collar of his shirt, eyes darting to Ed's and then away when he sees Ed watching. "I mean-I mean, I don't say things-" he says, a touch defensively. Ed raises an eyebrow and Cameron winces. "OK, maybe I used to say things" he admits and Ed nods, wrapping his arms around his knees. "But it was just-it was meant in fun."  
Ed snorts and Cameron turns to look at him, eyes wider now. "OK, maybe not _everything"_ he admits. "But you've got to admit, sometimes, with you-"  
"With me what?"  
_"This."_ Cameron throws his hands up to illustrate the point and nearly hits Ed in the face. "Sorry-" He reaches out and before Ed can stop him, carefully straightens Ed's glasses, Cameron's fingertip brushing his eyelid.  
Cameron pulls back his hand, and for a moment, Ed thinks he's blushing but that must just be a trick of the light. "You just-you act like you think you're better than everyone else."  
Ed splutters. _"I_ act like I think I'm better than-"  
"Not like that." Cameron waves a hand at him, brow furrowed. "I mean-I don't know the word. Like you're-not smarter-but better, more-I don't know, open-minded-"  
"Moralistic?" Ed suggests and Cameron glares at him for a moment before he admits "That would work, actually."  
He snaps his fingers. "A-ha. Got it. Self-righteous."  
Ed's jaw drops. _"Self-righteous?"_  
Cameron's grin's back. "Miliband, you've got to admit it. If I admit some, you admit some. You are self-righteous."  
"I am _not!"_ Ed hears his voice almost squeak on the last word and knows from the grin twitching at Cameron's mouth that Cameron's heard it too, which just makes the words even more mangled. "I-I do not-I juth-just try to _tell_ people-"  
"How to be. That's self-righteous."  
"No, it _ithn't!"_ Ed feels the blush rise in his cheeks at the lisp but Cameron doesn't seem to notice it. "It _is_ , Miliband. It's all very well to say we should be less narrow-minded, less focused on the one percent, and all that sort of thing, but to be perfectly frank, you act like anyone who doesn't agree with you is either an idiot or just plain wrong."  
"Because-" Ed splutters frantically. He remembers his father's words at the dinner table- _We have to tell people about this sort of thing, Edward, the only way people learn is through education._ "Because if I don't tell you, none of you will learn-it's not fair, I mean-" He feels himself picking up stride a little, his father's phrases running through his head. "I mean, it's not equal-we're all here and we'll keep going to places like thith-this and we don't have to th-see what it's like for everyone else-I mean, it's not fair. Or it's lessth fair than you think it is."  
He waits for Cameron to sneer but instead, Cameron nods slowly. "I know" he says calmly, and his leg brushes Ed's. Ed swallows and tries not to notice the scent of Cameron's hair, close to his cheek, close enough to touch.  
"But sometimes-it's like you think because you think _that_ , you're better than other people or that we're bad or-" Cameron rakes his hand through his hair. "Christ, I don't know if I'm saying this right. You're probably better at this sort of thing than me."  
Ed almost chokes. "Have you heard me th-speak, Cameron?"  
He's meant the words lightly but Cameron just stares at him for a long moment and says "You know, you're all right at speaking."  
Ed raises an eyebrow. "Yeth-yes, but-" He gestures awkwardly-his voice has said it for him.  
"I mean, with words. You're-you know. You're better with words, at writing. And you're awfully good at maths and that side of things." Cameron's definitely blushing now and Ed stares at him, taking him in, how close they are. His chin is almost touching Cameron's shoulder and he swallows, his heartbeat suddenly painfully loud.  
"Thank you" he says and his voice is softer than usual. Cameron swallows and both their heads turn at the same time so that their noses almost bump together.  
Both of them pull back at once, Ed's heart pounding against his ribs. Cameron swallows, and Ed leans back against the shelves.  
"What time is it?" he asks and Cameron pulls out a pocket watch. "My father gave it to me" he says, by way of explanation. "And it's nearly eleven."  
Ed swallows. Cameron turns the watch over and over in his hand. "Well" he says, apparently as an afterthought. "He gave it to my brother first. Then me."  
"How many brothers and sisters do you have?"  
"One brother. Two sisters. I was number three." Cameron glances at him. "You?"  
"One brother. Older." Ed leans back against the shelf. "David too, actually."  
"Oh yes." Cameron smiles and Ed finds himself staring at him, taking him in. "I remember you saying. Is he here? I don't think I know-"  
Ed shakes his head. "No. He was three years above us but he's at university now. Did your brother come here?"  
"Oh, yes. But he'd left before we started, he's a few years older, you know-" Cameron pulls out the second bottle of beer and shoots Ed a look. "Since we're going to be in here, we could do something."  
Ed swallows at the shiver the words send through him. "Do what?" he says, hoping he sounds only vaguely interested.  
Cameron laughs and sends the lid spinning across the shed. His hand brushes Ed's as he does so and suddenly all Ed can think about is how close they are. His trousers are suddenly too tight and he feels himself blushing scarlet, yanking his blazer down, thankful for the fact there's little light in the shed. He tries desperately to think of something else, and _not_ think about the way Cameron's hand just brushed the back of Ed's neck as he stretched.  
"Well-" Cameron leans back and his hair brushes Ed's cheek, and Ed has to bite his lip at the sensation _that_ sends through him, "-you might know all there is to know about equality and such but I doubt you know anything about Never."  
"What on earth is that?"  
Cameron smirks. "A drinking game. One of us says something and if the other's done it, they take a drink. You must have heard of something like that."  
Ed frowns-he's vaguely heard rumours of some such game from David but unsurprisingly, he's never been in the position to play it himself. He thinks of making some excuse-that he's too tired, he needs to sleep-but then he glances at Cameron's face and remembers that they're in a shed, neither he nor Cameron is likely to get to sleep for some time and since they're stuck together they might as well talk. And he doesn't admit to himself that he's feeling a faint stirring of curiosity about the game.  
"All right" he says, and he reaches for the bottle Cameron is now opening.  
"Capital" and Ed resists the urge to roll his eyes. Cameron leans back and smirks. "You start."  
"Something I've never done?"  
"Yep." Cameron spreads his hands and Ed feels the stutter rise in his throat, as he hastily wracks his brains for whatever he can come up with, that Cameron will _not_ find hilarious.  
"Come on, Miliband, there's got to be something-"  
"Give me a chance" Ed snaps, gripping the bottle nervously. "Um-I've never-cheated on a test?"  
Cameron bursts out laughing for a moment, before the laughter dies away as his eyes rest on Miliband's face. "Seriously, Miliband?"  
Ed purses his lips. "I've never seen the need for it."  
Cameron doesn't even bother to state his own position-he just grabs the bottle from Ed and takes a mouthful. Ed rolls his eyes.  
Cameron winks at him, laying the bottle down and Ed tries to ignore the sharp spark of _something_ in his chest at the gesture. "Seriously, Miliband? Never? Not even a spelling test back when you were a kid?"  
Ed scowls at him. "I said no, didn't I?"  
Cameron shakes his head. "Miliband, you are woefully inexperienced."  
"What, in _cheating?"_  
Cameron laughs, with another wink. Miliband swallows hard, and Cameron claps his shoulder. "You are the only person I know who never undoes their top button."  
Miliband stares at him. "What?"  
Cameron shrugs. "You know. Uniform code. Everyone else undoes their buttons the second that all the teachers have buggered off, but you practically button your sleeves." At the sight of Ed's face reddening, Cameron rolls his eyes. "Oh God, you button your sleeves."  
Ed covers them protectively with his hands but Cameron's already leaning forward, his hands folding around Ed's wrist, fingers pressed gently into his skin. Ed swallows, his heart banging wildly against his chest, and his face is suddenly far, far too warm.  
Cameron grins at the sight and ruffles Ed's hair affectionately and Ed feels a swooping sensation in his stomach. He ducks his head so Cameron won't see the grin that has just made it's way onto his face.  
This is ridiculous. It's _Cameron_ -Cameron, who he doesn't think he's ever gone a week without arguing with, ever since they started at the school, Cameron, posh, privileged, oh-golly-everyone-loves-me _Cameron-_  
"Anyway, my go-" Cameron grabs the bottle and muses for a few moments. "Hmm-I have never -broken my glasses."  
Ed blushes as he grabs the bottle back from Cameron and takes a swig. "You don't have to humour me, Cameron."  
Cameron blinks. "I wasn't."  
Ed shakes his head slowly. "You don't even wear glasses."  
"How do you know?" For the first time, a blush is creeping up Cameron's cheeks and Ed tries desperately not to notice how it just makes his eyes look even bluer. "I have them for reading."  
Ed blinks at him. "You do?"  
Cameron blushes deeper. "Not often needed these days but when I was younger."  
"Oh." Ed doesn't entirely know what to say so he preoccupies himself with pushing his own glasses further back up his nose. "When did you get them?" he asks, rather lamely.  
"When I was about eight." Cameron drags a hand through his hair. "But my father never failed to remind me how my brother never broke his glasses so I had to be extra careful with mine."  
Ed winces-this is something he knows, and all too well at this stage. "Mine told me the same."  
Cameron smiles-a genuine smile this time, not the smirk. "Your brother wore glasses too?"  
"Yes. We got them the same day. David needed some, so they decided that they might as well get me tested as well, since David was going to get them." Ed muses rather glumly that this is how the majority of decisions in his life seem to have been made-David was getting something or going somewhere and so it was decided that Ed might as well do the same thing.  
Cameron winces. "Sounds painful. How many times did you break them?"  
Ed frowns, feels the flush creep up his cheeks. "It wasn't exactly me breaking them" he says softly, and glares at the floor, hoping that Cameron will get the hint that he is not in the mood for discussing who was responsible.  
"Ah" says Cameron softly, and he raises an eyebrow sympathetically. "I get it."  
Ed tugs at his collar and glares at his knees. It may have been years ago but he can still feel the blood trickling down his knees as he crawled over the stones, his hands groping for the frames, the sound of his own sniffles as the tears escaped, dragging his sleeve over his nose and pulling it away, smudged with a smear of blood.  
He shakes his head viciously and then feels something, and looks up to find Cameron's hand awkwardly clutching his shoulder.  
He stares at it stupidly, as if he's never seen a hand before and then slowly, not entirely sure what else to do, lifts his own hand to pat Cameron's gingerly. "Um-thank you, Cameron."  
"Yes, well-" Cameron's avoiding his eyes, his cheeks now definitely flushed even in the dim lamplight. "They had no right."  
Ed's lips twitch in a faint smile and Cameron's eyes flicker to his. "I-well, gosh, I hope you know, Miliband-" Cameron blinks at him somewhat awkwardly. "I mean-I know we have our differences, but-I hope you know I would never-do something like-"  
Ed laughs, the sound a little fuller this time. "You've had yearth-years to try, Cameron, and you haven't."  
Cameron looks a little reassured. "Well-well, good. I mean-I never would, obviously." He pauses, as if he wants to say something more, his eyes darting to Ed's mouth and back up so quickly that Ed almost thinks he's imagined it. "Anyway, um-" Cameron swallows and Ed watches the movement of his throat, before hurriedly glancing away as Cameron's eyes meet his own. "Your go, I think-"  
Cameron hands him the bottle and Ed furrows his brow. "I-um-I've never-"  
Cameron's smirking. "Come on, Miliband. There's a lot to choose from, after all."  
Miliband glares at him. "I've never nearly been kicked out for smoking _drugs_ , if _that's_ the sort of thing you mean."  
Cameron raises an eyebrow. "Didn't know you'd have been interested, Miliband."  
Ed sniffs. "It's not as though I was _interested._ Nobody could _avoid_ knowing."  
Cameron doesn't seem particularly perturbed by the fact that everyone knows he was nearly expelled for ingesting some illicit substance. Instead, he simply props his head on his arms as he lies back. Ed adjusts his glasses and supports his own head on his arm, leaning his elbow on his cushion. Cameron's leg brushes his.  
"I wasn't nearly kicked out" Cameron says, rather abruptly, and his arm brushes Miliband's as he reaches up to drag a hand through his hair. "I was-I guess you'd say- _threatened_ with being kicked out."  
"Back to your definition problem, Cameron, I believe that constitutes _nearly."_  
Cameron laughs. "Actually, Miliband, I believe it does _not."_ He pauses. "I hadn't sold any so they let me off with lines."  
Ed can't help the smile spreading over his face, even as he shakes his head back and forth. Maybe it's the alcohol-he feels a little lighter, his smiles a little easier, though the world isn't spinning yet-maybe because he's safely lying down. "Why did you try it?"  
Cameron shrugs, and glances at Ed, his blue eyes brighter somehow. "Carpe diem." Cameron shrugs, that easy grin back again. "Why not, anyway? It didn't actually have much of an effect, now I think of it."  
Ed shrugs. Maybe it's the drink but the words that fall out of his mouth are looser, less-thought out than usual-"I can't stop thinking about the effects. I mean, whenever I-I, do anything-I can't stop thinking about what would happen-you know, what could happen-"  
Cameron frowns. "Well, I suppose that's a good approach. Sometimes, at least. But then again, if you never take any risks-you don't get anything done."  
Ed swallows and nods. "That has its' merits."  
Cameron tilts his head to the side, looking up at Ed with the big blue eyes. "Why were you out here, anyway?"  
Ed swallows. "I was juth-" He bites his lip at the lisp and feels the blood rise back to his cheeks. Cameron's hand hovers over his arm for a moment, but doesn't touch him.  
"I like to read" and Ed's pretty sure it's the alcohol making the words easier, but there's something lighter about telling someone, being able to tell someone, even if that someone's Cameron. "And-I like to read on my own, sometimes. So, it's good to have a place I can-you know, go and be, when no one's around, and I can-think, I suppose."  
Cameron grins and there's a hint of teasing there but it doesn't send the usual prickle of annoyance down Ed's spine. "No wonder you're a bookworm."  
Ed swallows, uncertain if Cameron means it or not, but Cameron takes a gulp of the drink himself and then says "Then again, that's probably why you're top of the class."  
"Not every class" Ed feels the need to correct him. "Only a few."  
Cameron laughs and says "Only someone who could be top of the class would say "Only a few", Miliband."  
Ed swallows. "What's yours, then?" He's trying not to notice how closely he and Cameron are sitting now, how they're basically half-lying down, how they're almost nestled against one another, how Cameron's hair is brushing Ed's shoulder and he can almost smell Cameron's shampoo. He could brush his lips against Cameron's forehead like this and his brain puts up the distant cry of _It's Cameron_ , but it echoes distantly, like a school bell a little out of reach.  
"Your what?"  
"Your I have never."  
Cameron smirks. "Finished lecturing me on the indiscretions of recreational drug use, Miliband?"  
Ed flushes. "No" he says, without thinking. "It's stupid and I don't want you to die."  
Cameron laughs, the sound a little louder now. "Die? Who said I was going to die?"  
"Drugs. It's a waste. It's a waste of your mind. I mean-you know-" The alcohol is making it difficult to form words, but Ed tries, anyway. "You're smart, Cameron. I mean, you're posh, but you're smart. You could-do something important-"  
Cameron's smirk is more prominent now, but there's a softness too in the eyes, as he looks at Ed. "You've not drunk much before, have you, Miliband?"  
Ed swallows. "I did warn you."  
Cameron laughs and ruffles his hair. Ed's about to protest when the touch suddenly becomes much gentler, Cameron's fingers almost combing the strands off Ed's face, lingering for a moment on his forehead. Ed swallows, heart suddenly beating hard, almost painfully.  
Cameron 's hand stops for a moment, his lips parted as if he's about to say something, a look caught in his blue eyes but then his hand falls away and he says softly "I like how posh and smart are mutually exclusive, by the way."  
Ed has to run through the words again before they make sense, and he laughs, because something about the word "posh" is funny. Cameron laughs at his laugh. "They-maybe not, in your case-"  
He swallows and Cameron grins. "Thanks, Miliband." He takes another drink and grins at Ed over the rim of the bottle. "You're not that bad, you know that?"  
Ed smiles. "I'm taking it that's a compliment?"  
Cameron laughs again and then says. "OK, my I have never-hmm-" He takes another drink and then grins at Miliband. "OK, I have never-" He grins at Ed. "Come top of the class. In five lessons."  
Ed feels the blush rise to his cheeks. "It was years ago-"  
"No false modesty, Miliband. No false modesty."  
"It's not _false!"_ Ed protests, though he can't help the grin he feels spreading over his face and the way that Cameron's smile is giving him that swooping sensation in his stomach again. "I-it wasn't that impressive, I'm sure David did it more than once-"  
"Just because your brother did, doesn't mean you have to" Cameron argues, surprisingly eloquently for someone who's consumed that amount of drink. "I mean, my brother wants to be a lawyer, but I've got no intention of being anything of the sort."  
Ed nods, interested. "What did you say your brother's name was?"  
"Allan." David takes another gulp and says "And he's a good brother, but he's bloody irritating to be younger than, nobody ever stops going on about him."  
Ed winces, because the words hurt and they're the way he feels every time he thinks about the high marks David achieved in every exam and now they're out there, someone else saying them, feeling the same way.  
"I know" he says and he's surprised to find that he completely means it.  
David claps him on the shoulder. "Older brothers. They're fun but they're-" He scrunches up his forehead and then says "Too drunk to think of the word." Another gulp. "Not always that fun, either."  
Ed takes the bottle slowly and Cameron nods. "Go on, your go."  
Ed lifts the bottle and takes a swig, letting the liquid warm his throat from the inside out. "I-um-" And it might be the alcohol that makes him say it or it might be the feeling that it's just the two of them in the middle of the night and it might be that smile on Cameron's face that makes him sit up, bottle wavering a little, and blurt it out-"I've never kissed anyone."  
*  
David knows he's more than a little bit drunk and Miliband's definitely the worse for wear but he's also pretty sure that that might not be the sole reason he's actually starting to enjoy this night in the shed.  
Maybe-well, he's never hated Miliband. He's annoying, of course-still is. And stubborn. And sometimes, infuriatingly bloody _right_ about things that David would never think about otherwise. And he clearly can't hold his drink properly and he's giggling a little, in a way that shouldn't be as endearing as it is and should not be anything close to _adorable._  
David shakes his head and tries to picture his friends' faces if they knew he'd thought _that_ about Miliband.  
But he'd be lying-he can admit this right now, he's drunk and it's just to himself, it's not as if anyone will know-that maybe, even when he's been finding Miliband the most aggravating little sod imaginable, he's noticed him before. A few times. With those big dark eyes that always look so bloody earnest. And that smooth skin. And that nervous little lisp he has, that some of the boys imitate but David's always found rather nice to listen to. Sometimes, he's found his heart beating faster when Miliband's asked to read aloud in class, because he knows in that moment that he's about to hear that voice, that slightly nasal, lisping voice that's grown so familiar David could dream it.  
(And maybe he has, on a few occasions, but that's all normal and good and perfectly proper.)  
A few times, and David must be drunk to admit this to himself because he's never let himself think it before, never let himself admit that it's true, he's found himself staring at Miliband's fingers on his desk, tapping gently as he thinks about some problem, wrapped around a pen, compulsively screwing and unscrewing the lid, even dragging themselves through his hair on some occasions, teeth digging into his lip. A few times, David has lain awake at night, listening to the other boys' breathing around him, his eyes occasionally darting to Miliband, curled up asleep and he lies in bed and stares at the ceiling and imagines those fingers, those hands, and he waits until all the others are asleep before he ends up gasping, biting down into a pillow to cover any sounds he might make.  
He knows what goes on-of course he does, it's a boys' school, it's a dormitory, he's heard more than he'd ever admit to-but there's something entirely different about it being Miliband's dark eyes spinning behind his lids, when he muffles those little sounds in the bedclothes.  
But of course, it must be normal. It must be.  
But now, he's drunk and he's watching Miliband in the light from the lamp. And now, he can't seem to stop noticing how dark Miliband's eyes are and the way his lips swell into a soft pout, and the way they close around the rim of the bottle, each time it's his turn to drink. And when his fingers had slid into Miliband's hair, it had been so much softer than he expected and he'd wanted to keep his hand there, to crawl into Miliband's hair himself and bury himself in the warmth and he'd told himself it was the drink talking.  
He takes a drink from the bottle and Miliband's eyes flicker to his. "You have?"  
David nods. "Course" he says, too quickly, and tries to push away the fact that really, it hardly counts. But Miliband obviously hasn't even had anything that doesn't count and from the way he's now chewing at his lip, eyes troubled, it seems to be bothering him.  
"You know, it doesn't matter" David tries to argue, while he struggles to keep his eyes off Miliband's mouth. "I mean, it might be better if it's with the right person."  
"I suppose-" Miliband glances down, pushes at his glasses. "I mean-um-" David can see he's blushing and that's enough to bring that grin back, that feeling of wondering what it would be like to slide his fingers into Miliband's hair-  
"What's it like?" and Miliband's voice is soft as he says it, shy and his eyes darting to David's and then away again, quickly. David swallows, at the way Miliband's tongue runs nervously over his lip as he asks and David tugs his blazer down hastily over his trousers.  
"Um-" He frowns, tries to remember what it was like. "Not that great, to be honest. I mean, the girls I-" There'd only been two but Miliband didn't need to know that. "It was nice but-you know-"  
Miliband stares at him and says softly "No, I don't."  
The sheer honesty in the tone leaves David staring at him, and wondering all over again how Miliband can leave himself so raw, so vulnerable. But he stares at him and says "I hear it gets better."  
Miliband sighs. "I expect for me, it will be a-" He pinches the bridge of his nose. _"Debacle_ would probably be an apt description."  
David stares at him and Miliband looks so downcast, that he drags himself a few inches closer, slides a hand under Miliband's chin. "Don't worry" he says, and he knows they're too close, can feel the heat of Miliband's skin. "It'll be fine, I promise." And then the drink leaves his mouth working overtime and the words scramble out of his mouth before he can stop them. "Who they are, they'll be lucky."  
Miliband's eyes widen and he swallows hard. David watches the movement of his throat and wants to nibble his way down it and they've both had too much to drink, of course they have, and it's late and it's just them and this is _Miliband_ but all he can see are Miliband's eyes and their hands brush as they both move at once.  
"I-um-" Miliband swallows, and David's heart is beating so hard that he's sure Miliband can see it through his shirt. "I mean-I don't think they'll a-agree-what with-I'm not th-sure I'll-kn-know what to do-"  
There's a moment of silence during which David listens to his heart slamming against his chest and knows exactly what he's going to say.  
"Maybe" he says softly. "Maybe if you-if we-"  
Miliband's eyes widen and David wants to pull back, feels that sickness curl in his stomach, that cold, shocked slap of _what, why, why did he_ -But he doesn't and Miliband's eyes flicker to David's mouth for a moment, his eyes fluttering.  
And then his head moves and David sees it's a nod. It's a tiny nod but it's a nod-and David moves his mouth slowly, closer to Miliband's. Miliband tilts his head the other way and a second later, their noses brush and he could almost laugh but his heart's beating so fast, it's like it's moved into his throat-  
His mouth pushes against Miliband's gently and it's warm and soft and _oh_ -and he moves his mouth cautiously, and he feels Miliband's intake of breath and then he opens his mouth, moves it against Miliband's encouragingly and Miliband's opens, hot and wet and he hears a sound in Miliband's throat that makes his trousers suddenly feel far, far tighter. He slides a hand up, grips into Miliband's black hair without opening his eyes, lets his tongue dart out because he can't hold it back anymore and it's stroking Miliband's bottom lip and Miliband's mouth falls open, a sound like a whimper in the back of his throat and then their tongues are touching, hot and warm and David hears a sound in his own throat like a groan, his heart hammering so hard he's sure it's about to break through his ribs and his second hand comes up to cradle Miliband's head in his palms, to breathe for a moment and then tilt his mouth even closer, kissing Miliband more deeply- _kissing Miliband, kissing_ -his tongue in Miliband's mouth- _Miliband's mouth_ -and his skin too hot for his body and Miliband's hands, warm on his neck, one tight in his hair now, the other tracing under David's ear in a way that made him let out a sound suspiciously close to a squeak.  
Their lips are moving together, hot and open and David's fingers tighten in Miliband's hair for the briefest of moments but Miliband's head pulls back sharply, their mouths breaking apart and David's eyes open with a gasp, his heartbeat suddenly thundering in his ears, breath hot and panting in the air.  
Miliband is staring at him, lips swollen and parted, chest rising and falling, eyes staring into his, dark-how on earth has David never noticed they're so dark?-and bright and cheeks flushed and his breath harsh and desperate in the air between them.  
David swallows. "Um-" He raises a hand, then drops it again. He and Miliband stare at each other, and he tries frantically to read the expression on Miliband's face, his heart pounding and a sick feeling slowly sinking into the back of his throat, a sick wondering if this was too far, if he's messed all this up-if he's messed all this up before he even knew what _this_ was-  
"Miliband" he says without thinking, reaching out to brush the other boy's-shoulder?hand?face?-but Miliband's head shakes imperceptibly, jerks back out of reach. David snatches his hand back as if he's been electrocuted. "Sorry-"  
"I-" Miliband rakes his hands through his hair, eyes darting around the shed wildly, "I-" He pushes his glasses back up his nose, eyes huge, chest heaving even faster now-"C-Cameron, I-what-what was that-I-" His eyes finally land on David's and he stares at him, wildly, and David's reminded of the cornered looks the foxes get on the hunts some family friend dragged him on one time, that look of absolute terror in the poor creature's eyes the second it knew it was cornered, that it was about to be shot, and the way David had turned away, his eyes squeezed shut, his stomach turning, and he'd put his hands over his ears, but it hadn't been hard enough to muffle the sound of the gunshot, the fox's squeal and he'd turned round too soon, and seen the fox lying there, limp and blank-eyed and gone, the crimson spilling all around it and David had been sure for a moment he could taste the blood.  
His hand fastens on Miliband's arm before he can stop it and he feels the jerk through Miliband's whole body, which just makes him feel even worse. "Miliband-" He loosens his hold a little and when Miliband doesn't pull away, keeps his gaze loose, fingers stroking the other boy's sleeve slowly, as though he's got that fox in front of him now, and he's saved it, he's picked it up and carried it away and he's soothing it, letting it know that it's safe, it's here and it's safe and he's not going to do anything to hurt it-  
"Miliband-I'm-I'm sorry, I-I thought you-" He can feel his heartbeat, a sick thudding in his chest, and he swallows, clears his throat, tries to ignore the hardness in his trousers that's urging him to slide his hands back into Miliband's hair, open his mouth, crawl as close to him as possible-"I thought-I thought you wanted me to-I mean, I'd never have done it if-if I thought that wasn't what you-what you wanted, I-we can forget the whole thing if you-"  
He expects Miliband to get up and storm out of the shed or throw something at him or tell him never to come near him again. He doesn't want it but he expects it.  
What he doesn't expect is for Miliband to stare at him, say _"You-"_ and then make an inarticulate shrieking sound and bury his head in his hands.  
David stares at Miliband's dark head and wonders just what the hell he is supposed to do now.  
He swallows. "Um-Miliband?" he asks tentatively and when he receives no response, he reaches out and awkwardly pats the other boy's shoulder. "Miliband-don't-I'm-um-I'm sorry. I-what do you want me to do?"  
There's a moment of silence during which David keeps rubbing Miliband's back, hand moving in clumsy circles, and then Miliband's shoulders shudder suddenly, as he takes in a deep, quivering breath.  
He lifts his head and David stares at those dark eyes, the way that they're blinking frantically, the teeth chewing away at his bottom lip. Miliband stares at him, his mouth trembling ominously and then he says "You-you-you-just-"  
David stares at him. "What?"  
The words burst out of Miliband's mouth as if he can't hold them back anymore. "Why did you do that?"  
David stares, bemused. "Because-well, because you asked me to-" he says, and something crosses Miliband's face, some flicker of something sad and small and disappointed, and David stares at him. "Miliband-"  
"It's fine" says Miliband and his voice is suddenly harder and angrier, more hurting. "It's fine, I know you didn't-you didn't _want_ to-" He colours and the words tumble out. "You don't have to pretend with me, Cameron, I'm not-"  
"Wait, what?" David's hands fasten tight on Miliband's shoulders and he swallows at the feeling of them under his hands, the sharp plane of the other boy's shoulders under his palms-"You think-that I didn't want to-"  
Miliband inhales sharply, pressing his lips firmly together. "You don't have to lie, Cameron. I know you hate me, you don't have to pretend it-you know, it _mattered_ or-" He flushes at the words but David barely notices because he's suddenly leaning far, far closer to Miliband, their noses almost touching and the words are fighting to climb out of his mouth and for a moment, he has to take a breath, fingers digging into Miliband's shirt, and in the end, what comes out is-"I don't hate you."  
Miliband stares at him silently, mouth working like a fish's and David seizes the opportunity. "I don't" he says quickly, struggling to get the words out before Miliband can push him away. "I mean-I never hated you." At Miliband's disbelieving expression, he sighs. "Well-I found you exasperating but that's not the same as hating."  
Miliband just raises an eyebrow. "Is this the part where you're meant to reassure me? It's not working."  
David sighs. "Look. I just-" He feels the blood creep up his cheeks and he says the next few words in a hasty, rushed mumble, eyes on the floor. "I didn't do it, just because I thought you wanted to, OK? I-you know-I wanted-"  
He doesn't dare look up but he hears Miliband's sharp intake of breath. He swallows, tugs at his sleeve. "It's-" He can't manage the words and keeps his eyes on the floor, but he can feel Miliband's gaze, heavy as a touch and eventually, he lifts his eyes to the other boy's and manages, his voice thinner and more defensive than he would have liked-"Anyway, I thought _you_ hated _me."_  
Miliband blinks. "Only because you hate _me."_  
"We've just been through this, Miliband, I don't hate you-and anyway, I thought it was because of all the posh stuff."  
Miliband tilts his head to the side and David sighs. "You know. You don't know how lucky you are, your family's dripping with money, you've probably never seen a poor person, etc.-"  
Miliband sighs. "That doesn't mean I hate you."  
"You didn't deny it, though."  
Miliband raises an eyebrow. "There's a difference between being aggravated and hating someone."  
"Now, who's meant to be cheering who up?" But the words are making the air between them easier, slowing David's heart, letting him think that OK, maybe they can get past this, maybe they can pass it off as just a drunken mistake, the mistake, surely, that lots of boys at school make, that he's sure has happened plenty of times-  
And then Miliband goes and says "And I-" and he knows it's not going to be that simple. Of course it isn't, nothing's ever _simple_ with Miliband.  
He swallows, and considers reaching for the bottle again, just for the cold burn of liquor to take his mind off whatever Miliband's going to say next, but stops himself at the last minute. Instead, he lifts his gaze to Miliband's as the other boy blurts out-"I didn't mean to-to make you stop-" He blushes deeper but seems to force himself to go on. "I was just-surprised."  
The words seem to curl inside David's chest, whispering there, his heart thudding faster. "Oh" he manages feebly, and he glances up at Miliband, not wanting to ask, but a need niggling inside his chest, a need, needing to know-"Was it-OK?" he asks and then hates himself for it.  
Miliband stares at him, eyes widening again, as if he honestly can't believe that David's just asked him such a stupid question. "It was-" His voice trails off and he bites his lip before he pushes the words out, just above a whisper. "More than OK" he says and he drops his gaze immediately, as if he can't bear to see David's reaction.  
David swallows. His heart is beating faster now, something singing in his blood, a tautness of secrets in the air, just between them, in this shed. He swallows. "I-um-I mean-" He doesn't know he's going to say it and then he has-"I mean, we don't have to-not if you don't want to-but if you want to do it-you know-again-well-that would be-I mean, I'd enjoy-I mean-" he corrects himself quickly, feeling the colour flood his cheeks. "I'd-I'd quite like-I mean-only if you would-"  
He trails off and stares at the floor, feeling as if his face is on fire. He doesn't dare lift his head to see Miliband's face.  
It's a few moments later that, haltingly, the words come through the air. "I-" and Miliband is halting, stumbling, but he's saying it and slowly, heart rapid and hurting, David lifts his head. "I would-I'd like-that-" and Miliband sounds so nervous, so utterly anxious as his eyes search David's face for any sign of rejection that something about the look makes David's chest ache and he leans forward, his hand slipping into Miliband's hair before he can stop himself.  
He almost doesn't think about kissing him this time-he'd be lying if a part of his mind wasn't on that, but his arms want to be around Miliband, holding him tighter, and somehow he ends up pushing his mouth against his to show him that. His mouth opens and so does Miliband's and suddenly, they're holding on tight to each other, mouths open and tasting and just feeling each other.  
It's when Miliband's tongue slips across David's bottom lip (which, while it makes David gasp and whimper, also seems to have a direct path to other areas, which leads to him trying desperately to angle himself as far away from Miliband's body as possible) that the alcohol or the smoke or the kissing or all of it, or maybe just Miliband (bloody _Miliband_ and the thought of what he'd do) surges to his head at once and he breaks away, and blurts the words out almost against Miliband's mouth-"That was my first kiss."  
Miliband pulls back, lips still swollen, and stares at him. "But-you said-"  
David sighs. "I mean-" He doesn't talk about this sort of thing, never usually would, but the alcohol's still buzzing in his bloodstream and from the wounded look Miliband's giving him, he's running the risk of sending his head into his hands again, so he says it. "That was my first real kiss, OK? I mean, I-I've kissed people before but-it hasn't-" If he thought he was blushing before, that's nothing compared to this.  
Of course Miliband doesn't let him off the hook. Of course Miliband would never let him off the hook. "Hasn't what?" he says simply and then-almost absent-mindedly-he raises his hand and brushes a stray lock of David's hair back from his face.  
David sighs and braces himself. "Hasn't felt like that" he says quietly, and he could kill himself for such a corny, cheesy, pathetic-  
Miliband's lip twitches. "You got that out of a film, didn't you, Cameron?"  
"No, I did not get it from a bloody film!" The words burst out of David's mouth before he can stop himself and he glares at Miliband, his cheeks hot, and his eyes drifting over and over, to Miliband's distractingly pouting mouth. "I-it's true. The only other two people I've kissed-some girl who did it for a bet and-well, it didn't mean anything, it was just messing about, but that-this-" he indicates the space then between himself and Miliband. "Wasn't, OK? It was-more."  
Miliband watches him quietly for a long moment and then says "Who was the other?"  
David shakes his head. "Doesn't matter."  
Miliband looks at him. "It was another boy, wasn't it?"  
"It doesn't matter. It was a joke, a dare, it was over a year ago-"  
"I'm not going to be angry" says Miliband and that just gets David glaring at him again, blurting out "I didn't say you were going to get angry!"  
"Fine. So tell me."  
Miliband looks infuriatingly calm, and David glares at his knees, hating himself for telling Miliband this and wondering if he's ever had a stranger night. "You can't tell anyone." Not that either he or-not that either of them would _care_ , or even that anyone would really believe Miliband, but David still doesn't want to take the chance.  
Miliband just smirks and David glares at him. "I mean it!"  
Miliband raises his shoulders. "Why would I?" he says and David has to admit, that is a point. "Who was it?"  
David lowers his gaze, tugs at his hair. Chews his lip. Gets the word out in a mumble. "George."  
He doesn't even need to look to see Miliband's eyes widen. _"Osborne?"_  
"How many others?" David snaps and then instantly regrets it, holding out a hand as he raises his eyes to Miliband's. "No, no, I'm sorry, honestly-"  
Miliband accepts the hand with a purse of the lips and then regards David with a quizzical look. "Well?"  
"Well what?" David snaps. "It was a dare, we did it and-" He can feel the blush creeping up his cheeks, which irritates him even more. "We didn't, even-you know-"  
"Know what?"  
David glares at his knees. "Open our-" He gestures to his mouth-it's the truth, after all. It had been a drunken night out, all of them staggering and dizzy with the high of being out of the school gates, the night spinning around them and when the others had started chanting it- _go on, kiss him, we all know you're not like that, go on, just for a laugh_ -George had grinned at him, one eyebrow arching and something about the drink and the dark had made David go ahead, lean in and quickly push their mouths together for a moment, to a bout of raucous cheers from the others and Boris clapping him hard on the back, George dissolving into laughter the second they broke apart.  
Miliband shrugs. "Osborne. Who would have thought?"  
David glares. "Anyone'd think you were jealous." He intends the words lightly but knows from the shadow that passes instantly over Miliband's face that he's struck gold.  
"Really, Miliband? I've just told you it didn't-"  
"I am _not_ jeal-"  
David raises an eyebrow and Miliband scowls. David has to admit the look isn't as off-putting as it should be. In fact, it raises a smirk to his own mouth. "Anyway, you asked" he says, and then remembers the words he said that led to this whole conversation-"And-this was the first time it-you know-meant anything."  
He could kill himself again. Slowly. But something about the way Miliband stares at him when he says that, stares for a long moment before his eyes soften and he's watching David in an entirely different way makes David stare back, his heart picking up once again and that old feeling back, of wanting to just pull Miliband closer, just hold him for a moment-  
Miliband pushes up his glasses and leans into him and David lets him, his breath stuttering in his throat. Miliband pauses for a moment, his mouth an inch from David's own and his eyes flicker to David's. "I-" he says, the word nervous, caught in his throat, and David just nods at him, nods at him gently, hoping to say it without any words _It's OK, go on, don't be nervous-_  
Miliband nods once, swallows and then cautiously leans in, gently pushing his mouth against David's.  
It's a little tentative at first-David has to remind himself that Miliband only did this for the first time tonight and then remind himself that he himself, no matter what he tells the others, isn't exactly an expert on the subject-but after a few moments of awkward moving and murmuring, Miliband seems to get the hang of it, and after another moment, his hand slides up into David's hair, almost cradling his head, which is actually far nicer and far less annoying than David would have ever expected.  
It's kind of a shock when Miliband's tongue strokes its' way across his bottom lip and David feels his mouth open before he can think about it. And then Miliband's tongue is in his mouth, touching the tip of his own and a moan breaks from David's throat before he can stop it, and he's kissing Miliband back harder, his fingers finding their way into the other boy's hair.  
His eyes keep opening at the same time as Miliband's and every so often a glasses frame digs into his cheek, and he'll feel the laughter shake Miliband's body at the same time as his own. His hand finds its' way under Miliband's chin and it's only when he realises that he's dragging himself round, in between Miliband's legs that it hits him how hard they're both gasping and that his hands are moving, moving to Miliband's collar, loosening his tie.  
He doesn't remember that up until today, he was sure Miliband hated him. He doesn't remember that there's only two other people he's kissed and that he hasn't kissed either of them like this or what any of his friends would say if they could see him now. He just knows he's kissing Miliband and that his forehead's pressing against Miliband's, skin hot against his, and he can feel Miliband's heart banging against his.  
He doesn't even know what he's supposed to be doing but he can feel his mouth making its' way clumsily down Miliband's neck until he gets to his collar and Miliband lets out a desperate half-whimpering sound as David's fingers fumble frantically with his top buttons.  
"C-Cameron-" Miliband's hands scrabble at David's frantically and for a second, David's about to stop, pull back, but then he realises Miliband is trying to help him. He slides one button loose, moves onto the next, slides off his own blazer, swearing fruitlessly at the sleeve that gets tangled, so that he has to pull back and stare at it hopelessly. "Jesus-"  
Miliband is slumped against him, shoulders shaking with a sound that David can only describe as _giggling_ , and David doesn't even want to punch him for it. Instead, it brings a smirk to his own mouth and the only words he can manage are "Shut _up"_ as he finally untangles himself from the blazer and then finds himself staring at Miliband, at the loosened school tie and the glasses hanging crookedly off one ear and while part of him just wants to kiss him again, another part's starting to take in the fact that it's him and _Miliband_ , half-lying on top of each other, with Miliband's tie dangling loose.  
"Um-" David drags a hand through his hair, tries to take stock of the situation. "We-" Miliband's staring up at him with those stupidly dark eyes (David's mind tries to say _puppy-dog eyes_ but David ignores it) and that just makes the idea of kissing him again a lot more appealing.  
But under the wanting to kiss him is the fact that they've both been drinking and that up until today, he thought Miliband hated him, and the fact that it's him and Miliband-"Are you sure?"  
Miliband blinks at him and David falls over his words. "I mean-we don't have to do anything-you know, that you don't want to-I mean, I want to kiss you, but we-we don't have to-oh-gosh, this isn't coming out-this-I mean-" He trails off and glances helplessly at Miliband, who's staring at him.  
"I know you said you weren't good with words, Cameron-"  
"Oh, shut up." David's aware that this doesn't do much to argue his case, which annoys him even more. But at least, something about this feeling is _familiar_ with Miliband. He sits up, dragging his hands through his hair. "I just didn't want-to make you feel like we had to do anything."  
Miliband adjusts his glasses and David rolls his eyes as he pushes them further back up his nose, like they're sitting in maths class and David's just given him an interesting problem to solve. "Even for you, Cameron, that was patronizing."  
David could hit him. "How the _hell_ was that patronizing? I just didn't want you to feel like you were being-being _assaulted_ or _forced_ or-"  
Miliband rolls his eyes. "Cameron, I think your touch for the dramatic might be showing-"  
"Oh, shut up, I was in one play."  
Miliband smirks but his voice, when he speaks, is softer. "Cameron, I know what you mean. I just-" He chews at his lip and rakes his hands back through his hair. "I thought you hated me" he says quietly and the words just make David's chest ache.  
He sits down beside Miliband and awkwardly puts his arm around the other boy's shoulders. He feels Miliband tense for a moment before very slowly leaning in, so that his head is lying against David's shoulder. They sit like that for a moment and David wishes fervently that they could have just carried on kissing. Something about this is weirdly closer than what they were doing a few minutes ago and David chews at his lip, but doesn't take his arm away.  
"I don't hate you" he says awkwardly and then, turning his face, finds his nose buried in Miliband's hair. "I mean-I already said that. I never hated you."  
Miliband blinks up at him and it has to be the alcohol, it can't be anything else, that makes David lean in and press a kiss once into Miliband's dark hair. Miliband blinks again and stares at him like David is something he's never seen before. David stares at his knees and it has to be the drink that makes him mutter "You're not as annoying as I thought, Miliband."  
Miliband stares at him before cupping his ear. "Th-sorry, I think I mishead. David Cameron just admitted he was _wrong_ about something-"  
"Oh, shut up, Edward."  
The name hangs in the air between them, and David swallows as Miliband meets his eyes with a smile-not a grin, a smile. David shrugs, mutters something about _might as well use your name_ , and Miliband just watches him.  
David picks up the empty bottle, makes sure to do it without dislodging his arm from Miliband's shoulders. "We-um-we should probably-you know-get some rest-it's probably late-"  
Miliband nods. "Oh-oh yes, of course-" He carefully raises one hand and slides off his glasses and David watches him with a feeling of mixed affection and exasperation as Miliband carefully places them on a shelf. He turns and frowns at David's expression. "I don't want to stand on them in the morning."  
It's then that his gaze drifts to David's arm-which, David now notices, is still around his shoulders. David feels the blood rush to his cheeks. "I'm sorry-"  
Miliband's hand fastens on his wrist before he can pull it away. "No, it-it'th fine-" He blushes again at the lisp and David feels the smile break across his mouth. Miliband swallows hard. "I-it'th-it's not uth-usually this bad-when I'm tired, it-"  
David gently covers his mouth with his hand. Miliband's eyes are big and dark as David leans in and, fuelled by the alcohol and the strangeness of it all, and the fact that Miliband's got those dark _(puppy-dog)_ eyes out again, drops a kiss on the end of Miliband's nose.  
Miliband doesn't say anything, but he blushes almost immediately, and David lets his thumb linger on his cheek as he keeps his arm around Miliband's shoulders and Miliband's head slowly falls back into place, almost nestling against David's as David awkwardly lies down. Miliband shifts slightly, so that his hair is brushing David's chin, and David wonders if Miliband can hear his heartbeat.  
He's sleepy himself and he can see Miliband's eyes fluttering in a way that should not be as sweet as it is (and David just thought the word _sweet_ which is something he is never planning to admit to anyone, ever) and that's the only reason he lets his hand wander into Miliband's hair, stroking it lazily as his own eyes grow heavier, the warm weight of Miliband's body against his side.  
It's then that he feels it, the brush of lips against his throat, taking advantage of his loosened top button to whisper a kiss against his collarbone, and Miliband's voice, tickling his skin. "You're not th-so bad yourself, Cameron."  
David smiles, and he sees the answering grin on Miliband's mouth, his lashes dark against his cheeks. He's too tired to say anything back, too tired almost to move, so he does the only thing he can, which is press his lips once, softly, against Miliband's forehead before he lets his eyes fall shut, his hand still combing its' way through Miliband's hair as he drifts into sleep.  
*  
The next thing he's aware of is a knocking. A rather frantic knocking and David cracks one eye open, and is immediately greeted by daylight creeping in under the door and a throbbing headache that makes him wish he'd stayed asleep a little longer.  
He's about to sit up but a warm weight on his chest shifts and murmurs something and David finds himself staring down at Miliband's head for a moment, utterly confused.  
Then last night comes back to him.  
He drags his hand through his hair, and then lets his head fall forward. "Oh God."  
There's a moment of silence, and then a low whimper comes from his chest. He lifts his head to see Miliband staring up at him, looking astonishingly young without his glasses. He blinks slowly. "C-Cameron-"  
David swallows. "Um-" The knocking's still going on and completely forgetting it could be a teacher outside, David yells "Could you give us a moment?"  
The knocking stops and through the door comes the unmistakeable sound of George's voice. "I'm calling you a hypocrite the second you get out here, Cameron."  
Miliband's head darts up so fast he looks like a terrified meercat. He stares at David as though he's about to be shot.  
David ignores George's laughter-as if George can laugh at _anyone_ after the amount of times he's been caught in here-and grabs Miliband's shoulder, holding him tight as Miliband's eyes dart frantically around the shed. "Are you OK?"  
Miliband stares at him and David shakes his head. "I mean-are you-you remember what-um-what we did-um-what happened last night-right?"  
Miliband raises an eyebrow. "You might make a habit of forgetting things when you're drunk, Cameron, but I don't" he says, in what might have sounded biting if his voice didn't sound as though it was being dredged from the bottom of a hole.  
Cameron stares at him. "Miliband, how many times have you actually _been_ drunk?"  
Miliband glares at him in response, and David's hands rest on his shoulders. "Are you-you know-all right? I mean-after what happened?"  
Miliband glares even harder. "I'm not a child, Cameron."  
David blinks. "Sorry?"  
"I don't need you to-" Miliband's blushing and scowling and David wants to kiss him again, which isn't ideal with George right outside the door. _"Protect_ me, I was-I was kissing you."  
David stares at him. "Well, my apologies for trying to be nice to you."  
"Well, you don't _have_ to be nice to me!" Miliband yells, and any hope David had of George going away and never finding out about this vanishes in that moment. "I already know what's going to happen, you're going to-to just want to forget about it, and that'th-that's fine, but you don't have to pretend you care. And my head hurts" he finishes, pouting in a way that makes David think about grabbing him and kissing him into submission.  
But instead, he shuffles forward until he's right in front of Miliband and slides a hand under his chin, tilting his face upwards until Miliband reluctantly meets his eyes. "You think I'm just going to-what, pretend this didn't happen?"  
Miliband opens his mouth, then shrugs helplessly.  
David glares at him. "I know you like to be right, Miliband, but that's not what I was planning."  
Miliband blinks, opens his mouth, then closes it again.  
David swallows. "I mean-unless, that's what you want-but I-I wasn't going to forget it-Christ, I'm messing this up-but I want to-I mean, I don't want to pretend it didn't happen."  
Miliband stares at him for a long moment, his mouth working silently. David swallows, and then without thinking, he lets his thumb stroke under Miliband's mouth and smiles as he watches the other boy's lip tremble.  
"We don't have to tell anyone if you don't want to" he says, his voice low. "But I don't care what they say about it."  
Miliband swallows and David watches the movement of his throat. "I-um-" Miliband reaches up to push the glasses back up his nose and clearly forgets they're not there. "Oh-"  
"Here-" David reaches out and carefully lifts the glasses off the shelf. Miliband swallows and David places them very gently over his ears, sliding them into place. "That's better."  
The words come out far softer than he meant them to, and Miliband stares at him, a flicker of feeling crossing his face, and David swallows. "I mean-"  
Miliband tilts his head to the side and kisses him. It's brief and soft and warm and David's hand creeps into his hair as Miliband holds onto him, pressing his lips against David's for another moment that stretches out before he pulls back, fumbling with his glasses, chewing at his lip.  
David wants to come up with something biting, saracastic, but all he can do is grin stupidly at Miliband and when Miliband gives him that shy grin in return, he leans forward and drops another kiss on the tip of Miliband's nose.  
"Ready?" he says quietly, adjusting the other boy's collar.  
Miliband nods, and adjusts his glasses. "If you are."  
David turns and opens the door.  
George sighs, arms folded, as he swings round to face them. "If the two of you haven't _died_ in there-" He trails off into silence at the sight of Miliband.  
Miliband flushes scarlet, the colour creeping up his cheeks, and David steps closer to him, raising an eyebrow as George stares from one to the other. "Problem, Osborne?"  
George opens his mouth and closes it again. "I-" He points from David to Miliband. "You-you two? You two are-"  
David raises an eyebrow and George stares at him. He blinks. "Am I dreaming or something?"  
"Do you often dream about us, Osborne?" David asks and a smirk twitches at George's mouth. "Don't try and turn this on _me_ , Cameron. You and Miliband are the ones who just spent the night in the shed together."  
Miliband glances at David nervously and David swallows, his heart banging against his chest. "Yep" he says, hoping to sound unruffled. "We did."  
And before he can stop himself, he takes Miliband's hand.  
*  
Ed's determinedly avoiding George Osborne's eyes when he feels Cameron's hand slide into his.  
He blinks, sure he's imagining it for a moment, as Cameron's fingers fold gently around his. For a second, he's sure Cameron's joking, that this is going to be another wind-up, another ruse after all, but Cameron just stares back at him steadfastly, blue eyes a little brighter than usual, as his fingers squeeze Ed's hand gently.  
Ed swallows and squeezes back.  
Osborne is glancing between them as if he's just been told the moon is in fact made of cheese. "Wha-" He opens his mouth and closes it again. "You two-you two-um-this is-"  
Cameron arches an eyebrow and Ed swallows hard as Osborne stares at him as if he's never seen him before.  
And then suddenly, Osborne's folding his arms across his chest. "Seriously, Cameron?" he says, one eyebrow arched. "We've been stuffing pillows down your sheets all night so the two of you wouldn't get chucked in detention. _I_ actually went _without_ a pillow, so you and Miliband could stick your tongues down each other's throats."  
Ed feels the blood rush to his cheeks but Cameron just sighs. "It's a difficult life for you, isn't it, Osborne?"  
A grin breaks across George's face and he winks. "Probably not as hard as last night was for you."  
Cameron stares at him. "Really, Osborne? That was the line you came up with? _Really?"_  
Osborne holds up his hands. "Give me a chance, I only saw the two of you five minutes ago." He shakes his head. "By the way, I wouldn't come back inside yet. Everyone's getting dressed, I just came out to tell you two not to get caught. But in a minute, Bercow will be ringing that stupid bell of his, so you two can just come in with all the others. You know, and not look like you've been shagging all night."  
Ed almost chokes. "We have _not_ been-"  
Cameron's spluttering next to him. "We did _not-"_  
George stares at them both. "You _didn't?_ All night? Jesus, what was the _point_ of us covering for the two of you?" He shakes his head and turns away. "If you want to rectify that, you've probably got five minutes-"  
"You're one word away from a cushion at the back of the head."  
Osborne laughs without turning round, and Cameron turns slowly to look at Ed. "I-um-sorry about-" He looks down at their linked hands and Ed tightens his grip before he can stop himself.  
Cameron's smile is a little nervous but he doesn't pull away and Ed forces the words out before he can lose his nerve. "I'm sorry."  
Cameron blinks. "What about?"  
"That I-I mean that I thought you were going to-you know-pretend it-um-" Ed can feel the words falling over each other and he swallows. "I mean-I juth-just thought it would-um-I didn't know if you-um-"  
Cameron's hand covers his mouth and Ed tries to glare at him. It doesn't work when Cameron arches an eyebrow and says "Did I hear right? I mean, is Edward Miliband actually admitting he's _wrong-"_  
"Oh, shut up" is the best thing Ed can come up with, but he's grinning as Cameron drops his hand from Ed's mouth, and tilts his head towards the school. "Come on. We're going to miss the breakfast bell and it's going to be difficult enough getting a table to sit at."  
Ed blinks and Cameron grins. "Unless you'd rather pretend we don't know each other?"  
Ed sighs. "I _said_ I was sorry."  
Cameron's smile isn't as triumphant as Ed expected. "I know" he says simply and he squeezes Ed's hand once before he tilts his head towards the school. "Shall we?"  
Ed doesn't say anything but he walks with Cameron towards the doors, the shrill ringing of the bell echoing across the grounds as they reach the steps.  
"We're late" he says as Cameron tugs at the door and Cameron turns to grin at him. "Isn't there a more comprehensive explanation available?"  
"Oh, shut up, Cameron" and Cameron winks, tugging him inside as he mutters back "Shut up, Miliband."  
Ed shakes his head and pretends he's not grinning as the two of them join the throng of blazers filling the hallway. His gaze flickers to Cameron's and he sees his own smile reflected on the other boy's face and feels another squeeze of the fingers that brings that swooping sensation back into his stomach.  
It's not until they've finished eating porridge one-handed that Ed realises just how difficult it is to eat a meal when every few seconds you find yourself squeezing someone's hand as quickly as possible behind the table. And that it can be easy to not notice someone's hand unbuttoning your sleeves until it's too late and Cameron's fingers are skating over your wrist, no matter how hard you glare at him.  
And he also realises, when Cameron winks at him and gently strokes his thumb across his palm as they head for their first lesson together, that despite the fact his head's throbbing, despite the fact his sleeve's hanging loose, despite the fact he doesn't know how he's going to focus on anything other than the feeling of Cameron's fingers in his today, that he doesn't think he's ever smiled as hard in his life.  
*

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea why Camerband are both completely hilarious and gloriously angsty. Leave a comment if you like it :) Might do a sequel to this at some point...


End file.
